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Rated: E · Fiction · Holiday · #2208966
A random story using the title of this fiction as a prompt.
How everything was on sale. Everywhere you went, everything you turned on, all you could see or hear was selling you something for significantly less than its full price.
Never mind if you already had one. It probably looked old. Or at least it wasn’t new?
Just because things ended up in drawers, basements, garages, cupboards, closets and outside somewhere they weren’t always protected from the elements, didn’t mean people didn’t have to have them.

Who didn’t enjoy opening a gift? If you were lucky it was from someone who actually knew what to buy you! Something you wanted or could at least use. Many a capitalist culture ran on the simple fact that people simply enjoyed shopping. It was a verbal drug. The new high, the distraction, the attention! Employees were paid to make good feelings and bad commissions.

Luckily, decades of carefully laced commercials, deep pools of debt and shallow plot lines balanced against education from a government with its own intentions of self-promotion and corporations that were legally sh*tty people, created an inability to care for inanimate objects. It didn’t matter how well it was made or if it was by the hands that made the hands that made them, most people didn’t want to clean, maintain and properly use things. Smash it and trash it!

The cheap plastic that everything was made with now not only fell apart when it was cared for, it contained toxins that ensured the person closest to the broken plastic became part plastic. The cancerous part.

There was no longer a need to shop for necessity. Anything excuse could be a reason to go out and spend some money!
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